


Direct Line

by Nadler



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-21 19:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17049494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadler/pseuds/Nadler
Summary: Denis Gurianov calls at the worst fucking times.





	Direct Line

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aleksrothis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleksrothis/gifts).



Denis Gurianov calls at the worst fucking times. 

It's one thing for him to call while he and Valeri are playing video games, texting that the message was important beforehand, and it actually turning out that he had no idea where to buy more good shoes. That's stuff Sasha can hold over on him later. Rookie stuff. 

They put him on speaker. He rambles on about not understanding how to go and do something as simple as asking to try on a pair of shoes. He cannot be for real, and Sasha half thinks this is a ploy to get him distracted so that Valeri could win a game. Eventually, Denis is satisfied and hangs up. 

Next to him, Valeri grimaces. "You too?" 

Sasha looks at him with a puzzled expression. 

"We're friends," Valeri explains, a bit wearily. "But you know. He's that friend." 

In response, Sasha only scoffs. "Oh, and you're not the same way?" 

He only huffs and gets back to the game. 

 

In retrospect, Valera was absolutely right. 

 

Like now, when Sasha would like nothing more than to stay in bed, unconscious. He is awake because a hockey player named Denis Gurianov has no sense of time or place about calling. Sasha regrets offering to talk any time. He can't take it back now, either, so he has to suffer through Denis talking about how fabric softener is strange, and that nothing feels right. 

"Thanks." 

He turns over his pillow. There is practice in the morning. He wonders if he can justify taking a maintenance day. 

After practice, Sasha asks Dobby, "Does Denis also wake you up too early in the morning to complain about his life?" And his hockey, but Sasha figures that one will pass, eventually. He tries to give feedback on that, at least, and he's a good hockey player; he'll be up eventually. Sasha knows what it's like to be impatient. 

Dobby shrugs. "Sometimes." He shakes his head. "You just have to listen. Sometimes I go back to sleep, and he hangs up eventually." 

He tries that. It is harder than it seems to fall asleep; Denis speaks rapidly and with the enthusiasm of a overzealous puppy. Sasha thinks Dobby is crazy for being able to sleep as Denis whines about how his roommate's driving sucks. Sasha gives him some platitudes, but also he tries to be helpful and give him advice about how to organize a bag for being called up, which brightens his mood. He stops short of offering his spare room, though. 

 

Once, Denis manages to call while Sasha is on an escalator. He waves to the Stars mascot on the other side while pulling out his phone, and he can feel Valeri shifting on the step behind him. Sasha goes for the high five, and Valeri leans over his shoulder, possibly to laugh if Sasha misses. Denis doesn't sound like he's taken a breath so far, but Sasha can catch something about Texas Stars drama.

 

All that would be bearable, if a little comical, if it wasn't also impacting Sasha's sex life. Which, by the way, is a good one. They call Valera 'Big Val' for at least two reasons. Not least because it makes him look like he wants the Earth to swallow him up while his ears turn red. 

(The first time, Sasha went with the oldest hockey cliche he knew, appreciatively: "You can't teach size." ) 

He doesn't quite know how he convinces Valeri to keep going home with him, but Sasha does not complain about it. Not when Valeri makes a beautiful choked noise when Sasha runs his tongue along the tattoo on his chest; he has him pinned down on Sasha's bed and a grin on his face. Sasha probably has the same expression on his face, a bit dazed and unfocused. Valeri makes the next move; he snakes his hand under the band of Sasha's pants to palm through Sasha's underwear, and Sasha leans up to kiss him. 

Valeri's phone goes off.

Sasha grimaces as Valeri pulls back. That's the other thing: it's not just Denis calling Sasha for advice at inconvenient hours, it's also him calling and messaging Valeri (and to a much less annoying extent, Dobby) for the randomest things.

Valeri readjusts himself in his pants, and he sighs. "I should get that. It might be important." 

"It's probably only Denis." His dick does not appreciate the mention, but he also doesn't want Valeri to move, at all. He climbs off anyway. There's the lingering doubt of whether it was someone else. It could be anyone, honestly. After a moment, he picks up the phone. And it's Denis on the other side. 

Sasha only catches part of their conversation, but some of it sounds like Denis having girl problems. 

Valeri keeps looking over to Sasha while he tries to be a good friend, more than a little apologetically.

After five minutes of this, Sasha leaves to find a drink. 

 

This is not the only time this happens. 

On a off day, they can be afford to be a little leisurely. Valera has a hand in Sasha's hair while Sasha sucks at a spot on his inner thigh. He trembles a little when Sasha rubs his stubble over a different spot, and doing that again draws out a shaky moan. 

Sasha mumbles into his skin, laughing about it. 

"My dick is right there," and he mumbles even more than usual, half-biting off a groan. Sasha laughs a little more. It's not like he can miss it or the way it's straining against Valera's very defined abs. On a different day, Sasha's going to burn that image into his memory, but right now, touching seems like the best course of action. Valeri's dick is already wet at the tip, when Sasha finally puts a hand around it, and he spreads the little bead of liquid before stroking his cock once, twice. It's a hefty weight in Sasha's hand, and he hears groans above him. 

"You gonna come on my face?" Sasha asks, and well, he knows how much Valera likes kissing his own spunk out of Sasha's beard afterwards. Sasha's own dick barely needs encouragement, so he ignores it for now and moves to mouth at the head of Valeri's cock. He's big enough that Sasha has to think to open his mouth before taking him in, and the stretch when he swallows around the first inch is exquisite. He has a hand stroking the rest of Valeri's shaft, and he's struggling not to buck up into Sasha's mouth. Sweat beads down Sasha's chest and he's about ready to go in for more, and if he looks up, he knows Valeri is going to be biting his lip, trying to be stoic about it. 

Suddenly, there's the sounds of chittering--creature sounds, that, in any case, do not belong in this bedroom. There's a tinny undertone, and it takes a moment for Sasha to recognize that as a ringtone. The ringtone is very off-putting. 

Sasha pulls off with a puzzled and annoyed expression. Surely this wasn't an terribly shitty prank by changing Valeri's ringtone. 

"Denis. I gave him his own ringtone," Valeri explains. "At least it stops me from thinking it's my agent all the time." 

Sasha is not sure if this is better or worse than before. He tries to play it off as a joke, but he only manages, "That is one of the least sexy things I've ever heard." 

The face that Valeri makes is a sight to behold. It is sort of like the face of someone who drank sour milk. He manages, "Well, it's Denis." 

Fair enough, Sasha thinks. If it's over fast enough, he thinks, they could get back to it. Valera's dick flags a little bit when he answers the phone, but even it doesn't withstand Denis's problems. By the sounds of it, some kind of floor cleaner is involved.

This time, Sasha goes to jerk off in the bathroom before he hears any more details. 

 

Also, Denis calls about a _spider_. He doesn't send a picture and then deal with it like normal people. Sasha fought back the urge to say something uncharitable, but he only says, "A bowl works," and lets Denis mull on it before hanging up. 

 

Post-game adrenaline is a magical thing, Sasha thinks. It gets him through the post-game rituals: the hat, the shower, the avoiding the media unless it's his turn. Which it is when he has a really good game, like tonight. Sasha scores _two goals_ even, and afterwards, in his hotel room, Valera's doing a valiant job at draping himself over Sasha, big hands wandering underneath Sasha's new button-down. It's a color Valera likes, admitted to offhand on a bus ride. He's glad Sasha remembers, if the way Valera fumbles at the buttons and the growing evidence in his slacks are any indication. It could also be Sasha's natural charm. 

Either way, Sasha enjoys the way Valera runs his hands over him, kissing downwards from his neck. 

At least, until his phone goes off. 

No terrible chittering, but it's Sasha's phone, so it could be only a limited number of things. But he can take a guess. Valera freezes. 

"Does he have a fucking alarm or what," Sasha complains. "Valera, he must do this on purpose." 

"You know he's not going to stop until he gets an answer." Nervously, he laughs against the collar of Sasha's shirt, but it's also more parts neurotic breakdown and sexual frustration than a laugh should be. "He probably wants to tell you that you had a good game." 

"And that should get in the way of you doing that?" The _with your dick_ goes unsaid, but he hears it all the same. He only shrugs, haplessly, before detaching himself from Sasha. He pulls him in for a kiss before he goes. 

Valera tosses Sasha his damn phone. 

 

Denis gets called up, eventually. Like they all knew he would. He's just as talkative in person. It hasn't been that long since pre-season, but if anything, he seems chattier. And more than willing to share all the Texas Stars drama. He's the only one who knows who these people are, but he goes on regardless. 

Sasha shouldn't think it's endearing, not after all the trouble he's caused, but Denis is excitable about the NHL, and he's nervous, and Valera has been suckered into hosting him. What this practically means is: Dobby and Sasha take them out for dinner, and Denis gets carded at the bar afterwards. 

They play hockey. Sasha is not that enthused about watching from the box, not when he's out for aches and pains, but from what he can see, Denis has the tools to do good things. He files the information away for later, probably for two am. 

Denis gets sent down after only two games, and well, this time, Sasha does not begrudge him being on speaker for his drive back. Valera takes over at some point, while Sasha goes to make a sandwich, and they spend an hour with Denis as background noise. 

 

It's not like Denis Gurianov entirely robs him of the ability to have mutually satisfying sex with Valera, but Sasha feels a little more rushed than usual when they find a chance. 

It's not the fun kind of rushed, either, not the kind that makes him feel like he's ten years younger, when he might consider another round if Valera's dick cooperates. (It does, usually.) It's a kind of rushed that Sasha associates with teenage fumblings in precariously locked closets, except in his own bed, and that wasn't the best pressure. Sasha tries to channel that into kissing Valera harder, until they're out of breath, to take his mind off of it. Then, Valera grinds up against Sasha, and they're not thinking much at all except about the feel of skin-on-skin. 

After, Sasha feels looser and unwound, and Valera doesn't even make his token protest about being the little spoon. They aren't ones for much pillow talk, but he smiles and says something indistinct; Sasha is already a step into sleep. 

There's a rumbling and the sound of a vibrating phone on the bedside table. Closing his eyes, Sasha grumbles onto the comforting shield of a broad back. "That's yours, right?" 

Valera stretches over and reaches for his phone. Sasha doesn't open his eyes.

Even when he's not being the worst, Denis can still ruin the afterglow. 

 

Somehow, Dobby solves the problem. The Stars call up Denis again in December. This time, they're on the road. They put him in a room with one of the defensemen callups, and they really can't practice on the road, so there's nothing but free time. Dobby gives Denis his spare room key, but this doesn't stop him from spending most of the time trying to convince Valera and Sasha to add him on a new phone game, or even spending most of the time trailing them. Sasha takes it in stride, mostly. The other guys joke that Valera is his shadow, sometimes, but he doesn't mind. 

When they finally get back from the trip and Denis (eventually) gets sent back down, Sasha does not really want to know the details. All he knows is that Denis stops calling as much when he's sent back down, and only within reasonable hours. Like a normal person. 

"Because it was going to kill you," Dobby says, waving into the air like he's swatting a bat. Sasha buys him lunch at one of the moderately but still outrageous pop-up restaurants that keep showing up around Dallas, and honestly, it's the least he could do. "And then what would I have been left with? Valeri, grieving over your corpse. Worse, Denis. And you know, everyone else."

He tries to be deadpan, but he fails. Dobby cracks up like he always does, the way he's been deviously smiling since they were boys.

Sasha's phone rings. He sends Dobby a pointed look, but it's not like Sasha isn't going to answer his phone. 

Dobby shrugs in response, in a very ineffable manner. "I tried, then." 

Sasha stifles a grin and excuses himself. 

It's Valera.


End file.
